


from the wreakage, build a home

by celaenos



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Codependency, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celaenos/pseuds/celaenos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison dies. But she doesn't exactly stay dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from the wreakage, build a home

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this right after allison died, and then abandoned it when it wasn't working quite the way i wanted it to. it's changed a bunch since then. it might just be a big damn mess at this point. there are quite a few mentions of being crazy, calling oneself crazy, etc. which i know can bother some people, so i wanted to warn for it. also, possible (but slight) mentions/triggers for suicidal thoughts. i don't really think it's big enough to be a problem, but i'd rather be safe than sorry. there is a good amount of death talk. 
> 
> also, due to being up in the mountains with no tv and very limited internet this summer, i have yet to see any of season 5. so, none of that canon is included in here, and i'd appreciate not having spoilers for it in the comments. 
> 
> enjoy!

She wakes up, and she forgets. For an entire two blissful minutes.

When it hits her, she realizes that she hasn't cried yet. Not since the first minute, when she heard Allison's scream inside her head. Before it happened for real. Clinging to Stiles for dear life. When she came outside and saw her laying there, limp in Scott's arms, all the breath went out of Lydia's body. And she hasn't been able to cry since.

…

…

Allison left a jacket in her bedroom. It's draped over a chair by Lydia's desk, and she can't stop staring at it. After nearly half an hour, Lydia leaves her room, heads downstairs, and doesn't go back into her bedroom for the rest of the day.

At one in the afternoon, Stiles texts her. Letting her know that the funeral will be on held on Thursday. Lydia just stares at the message, unable to wrap her brain around the words: Allison, and funeral, mixed together in the same sentence. Her phone dings three more times. Stiles sending her texts in rapid fire succession, per usual. About Malia. That Mr Argent is leaving town after Thursday. That Scott isn't really talking to him much.

All it does is make her head ache, and after sending an, _'okay'_ to him, she turns her phone on silent and leaves it in the kitchen.

When she goes to get ready for bed, Allison's jacket is still there, right in her line of view from her bed. She leaves the room and goes down the hall to her mother's bedroom instead. Hovering in the doorway, feeling smaller than she has in years, “Can I sleep in here?” she whispers.

Lydia's mother sighs at her and pulls the blankets back with a small reassuring smile. When Lydia climbs in, she wraps her up, like she hasn't done in years, and Lydia wishes that she could cry.

…

…

Everything about her dress feels uncomfortable. The air is humid and sticky, and Lydia's hair won't cooperate. Small, frizzy bits, stick out everywhere and somehow, that's the thing that finally causes her to cry.

Her fucking hair.

Her mother comes into her room and Lydia loses it. “It won't... I can't get it to...” Her mother picks up a hairbrush and comes up behind her, gently pulling it through her long locks. It's the dumbest thing to be worried about, but she wants to look good for Allison.

“It's not dumb sweetheart.” Her mother reassures her. And pulls some strands back, braiding them loosely until they're mostly tamed.

Lydia walks into the cemetery beside her mother, her eyes finding Scott immediately. He unabashedly has a vice grip on his mother's hand, and Lydia can see the tears pooling in his eyes. He lets them fall. Doesn't swipe them away in shame as lots of men Lydia knows would. Lydia has always only ever really related to Scott through Allison. Presented with him now, she feels the absence of Allison even more than before, but she isn't able to cry again.

Lydia doesn't hear a word that the priest says. Doesn't pay attention to anyone else in the cemetery. Even though it's full of people. All she can do is stare down at the hole in the ground. The hole where they are going to put Allison.

Before she realizes, everyone but herself and Scott are gone. He moves to stand next to her, and after a second, his hand slips into hers and squeezes. He has only ever held her hand one other time; a promise that the two of them would try to do something. To save their friends. They certainly failed on that one. Lydia doesn't have it in her to say a thing to him, her throat too tight with unshed tears. But she squeezes back. The two of them remain like that, side by side, looking down at the gravestone bearing Allison's name, hand in hand, until long after it grows dark.

…

…

She calls Allison's phone twice. Mr Argent picks up both times. Lydia hangs up before he can say anything.

…

…

She sees Allison outside her window. She's sure of it. But... she hasn't been _sure_ of anything for months. Years now. Not since people started claiming mountain lion attacks, and Peter Hale attacked her on a football field, and she woke up _wrong._

She sees Allison. She's almost sure of it.

She might be going crazy.

…

…

The news keeps running segments about Allison. About the level of violence in this town, about that stupid cover story they had to tell the police. A curfew is enacted for anyone under the age of eighteen. As if this town's problems are actually carjackers wearing masks and branding long knives. They should really be worried about things with long teeth. Things that hide in the shadows. Demons, and monsters that are hundreds of years old. Things from myths and fairytales. Not meant to be real, just pretend. A story. Things that people can't even comprehend.

Lydia throws her remote at her television and muffles her screams into her pillow. She dreams of long knives piercing through delicate fair skin.

…

…

Thunder beats on somewhere in the distance and Lydia starts counting. It's a habit, one that she has had since she was a child.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi...._

The lightning strikes.

The storm is going to be a bad one. It's been all over the news since this morning. Lydia's mother closed up the entire house before she went to work, knowing that Lydia probably wouldn't be up for it. She isn't up for much of anything these days. She has barely left her bedroom since the funeral.

The thunder crashes again, nearly shaking the entire house and Lydia just flops back down under the covers. It's nearly summer, and in Southern California, but Lydia is always cold these days.

The rap of a pebble on her window just makes her sigh. Stiles shouldn't be out in a storm like this. He shouldn't keep bothering her at all.

The rock pelts the window again, and Lydia's phone dings with a new message.

 _'Hey if you haven't noticed there is a crazy ass storm going on and my phone'_ _s getting soaked. let me up?_ _'_

Lydia sighs, she's been pointedly ignoring Stiles (and everyone else) for days now. It was only a matter of time before the persistent boy came looking for her.

She rises and pads downstairs, pulling the blanket along with her and unlocks the side door. Stiles comes stumbling in, soaking wet and sputtering. "Holy shit, it's a friggin' monsoon out there."

"Towels are in that linen closet." Lydia points, then curls up on the couch.

Stiles hesitates, like he's about to say something, but thankfully decides against it and heads off to find a towel, dripping water onto the floor as he goes. Lydia pulls the blanket over herself and closes her eyes.

He's back within minutes, shirtless, in sweats that she thinks once belonged to Jackson, toweling off his hair.

"They say this'll go on all day. Tomorrow too. And maybe even through the weekend." He says and sits down beside her. Lydia hums at him in response. "Scott's coming back to school tomorrow."

Lydia pulls the covers up to her neck and doesn't answer. She hears Stiles sigh and watches him pick at the fraying edge of the towel in his hands. The lightening strikes again. Filling up the entire house with such intense brightness that Lydia has to close her eyes.

_One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi...._

Stiles sighs again. People are always sighing at her these days.

"Scott's gonna help Malia. With the whole werewolf-coyote thing." He shifts on the couch as the thunder beats loudly around them. "You ever read anything about coyotes that would be helpful? Allison said they can walk on their tip toes, which is super friggin' weird, but..."

Her entire body freezes at the mention of Allison's name, and Stiles has only just noticed that he's even said it.

 _"Shit,_ Lydia..."

"I'm really tired," she says, cutting him off. "I'm gonna take a nap. So if you want to stay, keep the tv volume on low or something." She pulls the covers all the way over her head, her phone clutched in her hand. Stiles sighs (again) and eventually does turn on the tv, waiting for his clothes to dry.

Lydia presses the first speed dial on her phone, and holds it up to her ear under the blanket. It's been too many days, the battery died on Tuesday. Now it just goes straight to voicemail. No more waiting, wondering if Mr Argent or Isaac will pick up.

 _'Hey, it's Allison—'_ _(c_ _rackling static and giggles fill the pause._ _)_ _'Lydia, don't—'_ _(_ _Allison giggles again_ _)_ _'_ _—y_ _ou jerk... ugh_ _I'm_ _gonna have to fix this. Leave_ _me_ _a message!'_

"I miss you." Lydia whispers after the beep.

…

…

She goes back to school in a daze. All of her teachers start to sound like the one in Charlie Brown, and Lydia doesn't comprehend a word of it. Not that it matters. Her grades are fine, more than fine. She doesn't need to bother studying for the end of the year tests. Technically, she could test out and graduate if she wanted to. They offered the option to her last year.

She sees Scott in the hall, walking past her to get to his English class. And they just stare at each other for a minute before going their separate ways. Something about the look on his face makes her feel like someone else is feeling the same things that she is. She seeks him out during lunch. Fielding off Stiles as he goes on about Malia, and how he had to explain to her yesterday about not just _hitting people_ when she doesn't agree with them. Lydia knows that he means well. He's trying to give her other things to think about, but she just can't bring herself to care.

She sits herself down beside Scott, and wordlessly picks at her lunch. When she moves her body just an inch to the right, their shoulders press together. Scott's skin is warm and comforting, and he doesn't seem to mind, so Lydia relaxes into him for a few minutes.

When the bell rings, Stiles, Malia and Kira all rise together, still bickering about something Malia said. Lydia and Scott move slowly. The second he rises, and the warmth from his skin is gone from her own, Lydia nearly lets out a sob. She chokes it down.

“I thought I saw her,” Scott admits to her, low and soft.

Lydia sucks in a breath. “Me too. Outside my window.”

Scott turns and looks at Lydia. He looks so sad, but he gives Lydia a broken smile anyway. Lydia will _not_ cry in the school hallway. She backs away from him, feeling the tears waiting to be released. She hasn't cried enough, it's built up too much. If she allows it to happen now, she might never stop.

So, Lydia runs.

Scott follows after her. She can hear his footsteps clapping against the pavement beside her, and then his hand slips into hers again. Third time ever. He tugs her along towards his motorcycle and Lydia lets him. She's in no condition to drive her car right now anyway, she'd just crash. Crash and be as dead as Allison. A hysterical giggle bubbles out of her at the thought. God, that's messed up. For one terrible moment, it sounds nice.

Scott gets the bulky helmet over her head and revs the engine. That's when Lydia allows herself to cry. It takes all her energy to hold tightly to Scott's middle as the sobs wreak through her body.

She's vaguely aware that the bike has stopped moving. Scott is pulling her down and holding her close to his chest, and he's crying just as hard as she is. Holding her tight as they crouch together in the dirt. Two kids crying their eyes out together at the unfairness of the world.

It's Allison who gets them to stop.

Lydia shifts her head on Scott's shoulder, and when she looks out into the forest, Allison is standing there. Wearing the same clothes Lydia had seen her in last, wound in her gut still oozing blood.

Lydia screams.

Scott jumps up in a crouch, on high alert. He's whipping his head back and forth, sniffing the air for danger and coming up with nothing. Allison looks concerned.

“Does he see something?” she asks. And now Lydia _knows_ that she is going crazy.

“Scott,” Lydia grabs at his shirt, desperate to feel something solid beneath her fingers. Something real. Something to prove that she's awake right now. Allison walks over closer to them, crouching down beside Lydia. And a hand that isn't there—shouldn't be there—grazes lightly against Lydia's cheek. “Scott,” she says again, panicked.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks, reaching for Lydia again. “Do you need me to leave?”

“No!” Lydia yells, reaching out towards Allison wildly. Her fingers brush against Allison's bloody shirt. She grips it tight anyway.

“What is it?” Scott asks, looking right through Allison. “Is it your powers? Banshee stuff? What can I do?”

She doesn't know what else it could be. Allison is sitting next to her. And Lydia can see her as well as she can see Scott, but there is something off about her. If Lydia concentrates, it's like she can still see the trees through Allison's body. “Don't leave,” she begs the Allison she's not quite sure is really there. “Please don't leave me.”

“I won't,” Scott says, and hugs her tightly again. “It'll be okay Lydia,” he chokes on a sob of his own. “I... I don't know how, but it'll be okay.”

Allison smiles at her. “I won't either,” she promises, and rubs Lydia's back in slow small circles.

“Are you really here?” she asks in a hushed whisper. She feels like she can't trust anything inside her own brain anymore. Maybe she just wants Allison to be back so badly, her imagination has run wild. Her mind is playing tricks on her. But, Lydia would never want her to be here like this: her fatal wound still bleeding freely at her side, wearing the clothes that she died in. Maybe Lydia has finally cracked up, gone totally, and completely insane. Or maybe she is the one who's the phantom, and she's been haunting her mother, and Stiles and Scott without knowing it. Maybe she's been dead this whole time too, and is just now realizing it.

“I think so,” Allison answers, her voice airy. “Things were kinda fuzzy for a while. But they're not really anymore.” Lydia keeps staring at the wound in Allison's side. Picturing the sword going through Allison's frail skin all over again. She closes her eyes tightly. Allison leans over and rests her head against Lydia's shoulder. “It doesn't hurt anymore Lydia. I'm okay.”

Lydia starts sobbing harder. Scott's strong hands hold her close and his tears mix with her own. And Lydia thinks that she is handling this a lot better than anyone would probably give her credit for.

Later, after Scott's brings her back home—brings _them_ back home, she corrects herself—Lydia stands in the middle of her empty kitchen, facing Ghost Allison warily.

(Allison had climbed onto the back of the bike and held onto Lydia's middle. Scott had to try four times to kick the bike to life. “It's like there's too much weight or something,” he said with a confused shake of his head. Allison smiled against Lydia's shoulder and gave her stomach a light squeeze.)

“Does it really not hurt?” she asks, pointing to Allison's side.

She shakes her head. Pokes her fingers in it. “Nope,” she says, twisting her body side to side, like she's dancing. A flapper or something, out for the night, full of gin, doing the twist in a beaded dress. The two of them had been having a 1920s movie marathon before the whole _nogitsune_ problem started. And they had been passing old dime novels back and forth with each other for months. Allison had wanted to go shopping together and find proper flapper dresses. “Doesn't even actually bleed anymore, see,” she pokes at it again. Lydia grimaces, but she's right. Nothing spills out. Lydia steps forward hesitantly and holds her hand out. When she brushes her fingers against Allison, they come away clean and dry. Allison beams. “See? Everything's jake,” she says, adopting flapper lingo. Trying to get Lydia to smile. It works, at least momentarily.

“Why couldn't Scott see you? He thought he did before.”

Allison shrugs. “I think he could feel me there though. Why didn't you tell him?”

“Because I think I'm going crazy.”

“You're not crazy,” Allison tells her gently, coming up and wrapping her arms around Lydia.

“Yeah,” Lydia says shakily. She hugs Allison back. She can feel her, but it's not as solid and real as Scott felt to her moments before. There is a weightlessness to her. Not wholly there. Allison is colder, and she smells a little wrong. Not bad, just... not quite like a person. “You left a jacket in my room.” Lydia tells her.

“My black one?”

Lydia nods.

“Been looking everywhere for that.”

Lydia holds onto Allison and closes her eyes. She is pretty sure that even if she has these stupid powers, even if she is a banshee, talking to people not wholly there still makes you at least a little bit crazy. She grips Allison tighter. She might be willing to take that risk. At least this time, her seeing things that other people can't means that she gets to have Allison back. Bloody or not.

…

…

She waits for a week to tell Scott. Not because she doesn't trust him. Not even fully because she is selfish and wants to keep Allison's company to herself for a little while. But because she needs to be sure it's really real before she gets his hopes up.

Allison is still there, every morning when Lydia wakes up. She plays with Lydia's hair, sitting on top of her desk, and talks to her during school. If there weren't already rumors going around the whole town that Lydia Martin is half baked, there sure as hell are now. Stiles starts looking at her funny. Waving his arm in front of her face during class and saying, “Lydia? You're zoning out again,” each time she turns to listen to Allison.

Malia frowns at her, head tilted in that curious, animal-like way of hers. “Is there something wrong with you?” she asks when Stiles goes back to explaining something to Kira.

Allison stands behind Malia and points at her shirt. “Hey, that's mine,” she declares, not looking angry about it at all.

Lydia thinks at her, “I know. I gave her some of your clothes because she doesn't have any. I thought it would be something that you would do.” She doesn't know if she has to say it out loud or not for Allison to hear her anymore. Allison seems satisfied regardless, studying her clothes on Malia's back with something like approval and longing.

“Lydia?” Malia prods again. “Are you... like... okay?” she motions to her own head. Makes the symbol for crazy.

“No.” Lydia smiles as she watches Allison climb up on Coach Finstock's desk and mock his movements. “I'm pretty sure that I'm not.” She's stopped worrying so much about it. She feels oddly calm in her possible craziness.

“Well...” Malia looks uncomfortable. “I'm probably not either. Being a human all the time is confusing.”

“Yep,” Lydia agrees. Allison puffs Coach's hair out more. She seems to be enjoying this whole ghost thing a little too much.

…

…

Lydia's teachers seem concerned. She ends up back in the guidance counselor's office. Her mother worries.

Lydia doesn't care. Allison is still here.

…

…

They walk to Scott's house together after school. Allison chattering away in Lydia's ear as she knocks on the front door. Melissa answers, and gives Lydia a smile that reminds her of Scott. Makes her feel as safe in her presence as Scott can. And then he's there, not happy—none of them are _happy_ anymore—but glad to see Lydia anyhow.

They sit on Scott's front porch, Allison on the floor in front of Lydia, her back pressing into (through) Lydia's legs. She swallows. Doesn't know how to say it. How to explain.

“Just tell him,” Allison says. “He'll believe you.”

“Allison's still here,” Lydia whispers. She puts her hands on Allison's shoulders. “Right here.”

“What?”

“I can still see her. Talk to her. Touch her. Kind of, it feels different.”

“That sounds dirty,” Allison laughs. Lydia pinches her. “Ow!”

“How?” Scott asks, looking down at the place where Allison is sitting. She smiles up at him and waves, but he can't see her.

“I don't know Scott,” Lydia brushes her hair out of her eyes. “I didn't go to ghost college.”

“Huh?”

“Hamlet,” Lydia says.

“What!?”

“Never mind. I don't know how. Maybe because I'm a banshee?” she shrugs. “I just know that I can see her.”

“Can you see her right now?”

Lydia nods. “She's sitting right here. Sticking her tongue out at you.”

“Lydia...”

Allison sits up, rests her arms on Lydia's legs and brings her face close to Lydia's own. “Tell him that the first time we had sex, he made this cute little squeaking noise and we laughed so hard that we fell out of the bed. I promised I'd never tell anyone. He'll know it's me.”

Lydia wrinkles her nose, but tells Scott anyway. His face goes bright pink, and then he starts to cry. “She's really here?”

Allison moves to drape herself over Scott's hunched back, hugging him. Scott gives a tiny shiver, like he maybe can feel her too. “Is she touching me right now?” he asks Lydia. She nods and Scott cries harder, clutching Lydia's hand in his own. Allison draping herself over them both, her touch feathery and too light.

Sometime later, Melissa McCall shows up on the porch in her scrubs. Purse and keys in hand, looking at them sorrowfully. “There's plenty if you'd like to stay for dinner Lydia,” she offers. Scott nods at her quickly. Clutching her hand and holding her in place. Pleading.

“Thanks, I'd like that,” she says. Scott relaxes, but he doesn't let go of Lydia's hand. Instead, he rises, pulling Lydia with him. He kisses his mother on the cheek as they pass her and head into the house, Allison trailing along behind them.

“Wish I could still eat, smells great.”

Lydia turns to her. “Can you still smell?”

Allison shrugs. “Not really.”

Scott watches Lydia and the empty space she is talking to longingly. The food _does_ smell good, and Lydia is suddenly ravenous after barely having any appetite. She sits down at the McCall's kitchen table, Scott to her left, Allison to her right and eats more than she has in a week. Both Allison and Scott watch her with approval. Embarrassed, Lydia pushes Scott's shoulder while he grins at her.

“Shut up!” she says.

“I didn't say anything!”

“He didn't.” Allison pipes up.

Lydia turns on her. “You shut up too.”

Allison and Scott give her matching, dimpled grins. And just like that, Lydia finds herself genuinely laughing for the first time in weeks. The constant aching for Allison, for a normal life, hurts a little less.

Of course, then, the three of them move into the living room. Books and laptops strewn out in front of them, reading everything about ghosts and the afterlife that they can find. Lydia sits on the couch, her legs up on the magazine table, while Scott sprawls out on the floor in front of her. Allison alternates between cuddling into Lydia's side, and resting upside-down on the couch, reading over Scott's shoulder. Lydia falls asleep on the McCall's couch. A book on her face and Allison hovering somewhere above her head. She wakes up when Melissa McCall comes home from her shift. Scott is using her calf as a pillow, and Melissa covers them both with blankets before heading upstairs.

…

…

She wakes up for the second time to the smell of pancakes. Alone, tangled in a light blue blanket, with a book on paranormal encounters digging into her hip. Lydia runs her fingers through her hair and tries to smooth the wrinkles out of her dress. Her mother is going to kill her. Lydia searches for her cell phone and finds six unread text messages. Two from Stiles. Four from her mother.

“Shit,” she mumbles. Quickly typing up an excuse as she prepares to dash out of the house.

Melissa McCall stops her. “She already knows you're here,” she tells her with a soft smile. Lydia's head whips up, and she only just stops herself from knocking into Scott's mom. Lydia has spent maybe ten minutes total with the woman in her life. And now, she's looking at Lydia with something like maternal affection. Lydia doesn't quite know what to make of it. “I called her last night,” Melissa explains. “Told her that you two fell asleep studying,” Melissa's face twists into an odd smile. “Didn't mention the ghosts though,” she points towards the books. “Am I going to have my furniture moved around by specters?”

Lydia glances around the McCall's living room, Allison is nowhere in sight. “I don't think so,” she says. “Sorry about falling asleep here.”

Melissa only smiles brighter. “Would you like some blueberry pancakes?”

“Oh, I don't want to intrude—”

“Lydia, there's plenty. Your mother knows where you are. I'd love for you to join us.”

Lydia swallows and nods once, unable to find her voice, and follows Melissa into the kitchen. Scott is flipping pancakes expertly in front of the stove. Shirtless. Lydia takes a split second to appreciate the picture, then sits down at the table. Smiling at Scott as he passes over a plate with a huge stack of pancakes.

“Morning,” he says, giving her a shy grin. “Is she still here?” he asks, lowering his voice as Melissa pours herself a cup of coffee. Lydia looks around the room again, hopeful. No Allison to speak of. She shakes her head, and Scott's face falls a little. Lydia knows how he feels. Every time Allison disappears, Lydia panics. Worried that she won't come back. That she'll really leave.

Scott and Mrs McCall—Melissa, she asks to be called—do their level best to distract Lydia from worrying about Allison. It's nice, to watch the two of them together. Lydia's relationship with her mother has improved in the last few months, but it's nothing like this. Nothing like the easy, loving rapport that Scott and Melissa have. Lydia finds herself envious of them. She eats her pancakes slowly, trying to draw the morning out as long as possible.

…

…

“Ghosts?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “Seriously?”

“Is that honestly so weird considering every other weird thing that happens in this town?” Kira asks him. Stiles, frowns, head tilted in thought.

“Point,” he says. Looking around the room his eyes narrow. “Is she here right now?”

“No,” Lydia answers with a pout. Allison hasn't shown up since last night at Scott's. Lydia is trying very hard not to panic about it. She's grateful when Scott's hand slips into her own and squeezes. Like he can sense her distress.

“I'm confused,” Malia starts. “Is she dead or not?”

“Malia!” Kira yells.

“What? I don't get it!”

“I don't know,” Lydia answers her. “I... she's _there_ but she's not. Like, sometimes I can kind of see through her if I try. And, I can't really touch her. But also, I can kind of feel it when she touches me. I don't know how to explain it.”

“So...” Kira begins cautiously. Looking back and forth between Lydia and Scott. “Are we trying to help her cross over?” she asks, voice low.

Lydia shifts her body weight, feels thrown at the very thought. “ _No_ ,” she snaps. “We have her _back._ We're not making her go _anywhere._ ”

Kira shares an uncomfortable look with Stiles. Lydia wants to claw both their eyes out for even suggesting such a thing.

“I just meant... it's not good for spirits to linger. Usually they do it because they have unfinished business. But it can—”

“Like getting _murdered at seventeen_ ,” Lydia yells, her voice pitched far too high. Scott's hands reach out and rest on her shoulders. “Before you even get to really start living your life? Kind of like _that_?”

“Lydia, I'm not trying to—”

“Then don't,” she yells. (Screeches more like, the rational part of her acknowledges.) Scott's arms aren't enough to comfort her right now. Lydia rises, towering over Kira and shaking with anger. “You barely even knew her,” she bites out harshly. “So don't talk about things that you know nothing about.”

Kira shrinks from her, like she has been physically hit. And Lydia wants to snatch her words back and shove them down her throat where they should have stayed. She tries to apologize, but the air feels too thick. Kira and Stiles' worried eyes on her. Malia's indifferent confusion. Allison still hasn't shown up today. And Scott. Scott's face hurts most of all.

So Lydia runs out of the room.

Allison is perched on the hood of her car when Lydia makes it out to Stiles' driveway. “Where have you _been_?” Lydia asks. Tries to sound accusatory, just ends up sounding like a pathetic little kid.

Allison slides down. Loops her arm in Lydia's with its newfound familiar weightlessness. Not really touching. It hurts; seeing Allison touching her but not actually feeling it. Not really. She aches to actually feel Allison again. They have always been affectionate friends, but it seems like Allison has grown more so now that they can't actually touch each other. Like maybe she misses it too.

Lydia still feels like screaming.

“Sorry,” Allison says, sliding into the passenger seat of Lydia's car. Nearly falling through the seat until she manages to hover correctly on it.

“Where do you go?” Lydia asks her. “When you're not here.”

Allison shrugs. Doesn't offer up anything else.

“I—” Lydia croaks, “—do you _not_ want to be here?” she asks, voice tight. Fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles are bright white. “Do you want to... cross over or whatever?”

Allison rolls her head towards Lydia, incredulous look on her face. “Dummy, why would I want to leave you?”

Lydia's body sags with relief. “Okay, okay good.” She turns the car on, starts to pull out of Stiles' driveway. “So... we're good? You're okay?”

Allison gives her a smile that's all dimples. “Everything's jake.”

Lydia almost believes her.

…

…

She doesn't study for a single test, but she aces them all anyway. The worried looks from her teachers and friends as she zones out and mumbles to herself don't stop, but Lydia becomes stellar at ignoring them. At ignoring everyone.

Her mother doesn't seem to know what to do with her anymore, hasn't for a while, even though she's been trying harder. Lydia makes an extra effort to appear busy and happy while her mother leaves for work each morning, talking about this book and that, movie marathons she's got planned. Her mother's brow remains creased.

“I just don't want you to spend all summer cooped up and grieving honey,” she says one morning mid-June. “I haven't heard you mention any of your friends in weeks. Not since school ended.”

Allison sits up on the counter top behind Lydia's mother, making faces at her.

“I'm not,” Lydia protests. Her mother frowns. “I won't,” Lydia promises.

Her mother kisses her on the forehead, and goes to work with a sigh of, “Alright. I'll be late tonight. Maybe go out with your friends for dinner?”

Lydia nods for her mother's benefit. “Yeah, maybe.”

The thing is, it's easier to be with Allison when no one else is around. Lydia doesn't have to translate or explain half of a conversation. Doesn't have to act like she's not a crazy person who still talks to her dead best friend on the regular. She can pretend like everything is still normal when it's just the two of them.

Allison doesn't show up as much when other people are around anyway. Lydia can't get a straight answer out of her about it. Only that being ignored and playing ghost pranks is boring after the first few times.

…

…

“How much can you still feel?” Lydia asks. Allison's head in her lap as they watch a cheesy romantic movie about a woman who falls in love with a ghost. It seemed funny and appropriate at the time, now Lydia's face feels too hot.

Allison twists her head so that she's looking up at Lydia, giving her a dimpled grin. Still bloody. Still a ghost. “I can feel how hot your legs are right now,” she says, teasingly.

Lydia's cheeks flush. She pinches Allison and directs her attention back to the movie. The woman and the ghost are making out. “I mean, how could that possibly work?” she snaps.

Allison's face turns determined and curious. She sits up, pulling herself close to Lydia. Her face hovering inches from Lydia's own. “Let's find out,” she says, and leans in.

Lydia stills. Freezes and lets Allison press their lips together. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands. She doesn’t know what to do with the fact that her legs feel like jelly. She doesn’t know what to do at all. She has thought about kissing Allison before. Innocently, then, not so. But she stopped thinking about it ages ago, tried to anyway. Now, Allison is moving her lips against Lydia's as hard and deep as she can, trying to make them both actually feel it. It's not enough. Lydia whines into Allison's mouth, bringing her hands up and trying to grab onto Allison. To make her feel solid and real again.

Allison pulls back with a little laugh. “Guess it doesn't work all that well,” she says, running her fingers through her hair. Her cheeks can't get flushed anymore, but Lydia knows what she looks like when she's embarrassed. She leans forward and kisses Allison lightly, smiling into her mouth.

“No,” she says softly. “But it's not terrible.”

Allison smiles. “What every girl loves to hear.”

They lean back into the couch, still tangled up in each other as best they can, and finish the movie in silence.

…

…

Stiles tries to coax Lydia out of the house. But, he doesn't go much further than sending her occasional texts inviting her out with him and Malia. Either he has matured, or someone—probably Scott or Kira—have stopped him from coming over uninvited and pestering her.

If it is Scott, he doesn't take his own advice. But, he doesn't ever feel as blunt and invasive as Stiles usually manages to be. And he doesn't slip in little comments about ghosts needing to cross over into their conversations. In fact, he is the only person who makes her feel normal about Allison. Or, at least, not like a freak.

…

…

In the middle of July, Scott shows up at Lydia's front door. He holds out his extra bike helmet and asks her if she has her bathing suit. His smile pierces into her, and Lydia can't seem to bring herself to tell him to go to hell. Not when he tugs her down to his bike, his hand warm in Lydia's own. She hasn't touched anyone, really touched them, in what feels like months. She and Allison touch each other all the time. Constantly. But it never feels heavy enough. It never feels like touching another person should.

She didn't know how much she ached for it until Scott's hand was in her own.

He drives them far out of town. She thinks they're going to the beach, but he doesn't take the correct road. Instead, they zip along down the pavement, the wind blowing Lydia's hair out behind her, arms holding onto Scott's waist, smiling into the bulky helmet.

They pull up to a stop near the edge of some woods and Lydia frowns at him. But Scott just smiles. Says, “Trust me,” and grabs her hand, pulling her into the woods.

They follow a trail and come out to a clearing with a lake. Scott grins. Pulling his shirt off over his head and kicking out of his shoes. He runs towards the lake, leaping up and diving in with ease, yelling as he comes up sputtering and shaking his hair out like a dog. Lydia laughs. Laughs without Allison for the first time since she's died and come back.

Much more slowly, Lydia slips out of her clothes and walks towards the lake. She dips a toe in and yelps. “It's too cold.”

“Not once you're in and moving!” Scott's paddling around, doing somersaults underwater and waiting patiently for Lydia.

She grimaces, trying to edge herself in slowly and hissing at the cold. Scott doesn't prod her any further, just swims around and waits for her to be ready. Finally, Lydia gets sick of trying and steps back. Gritting her teeth, she takes a running leap like Scott did, flinging herself like a maniac into the cold water. She comes up gasping and screaming her head off, Scott laughing at her and swimming over.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” she screams over and over. The cold biting at her skin. Scott pulls her to him, his body temperature immediately making her feel a little better. “I hate you,” she says again, no venom to it at all.

“Want to jump off the rock?” he asks, pointing.

Lydia examines it. She does not. But she will paddle around and watch Scott fling himself off of it in hilarious and creative ways until her fingers are all pruney.

They climb out of the lake sometime in the afternoon. Shivering and laughing as they air dry before pulling their clothes back on over still wet bathing suits. They get hamburgers at a small highway stop on their way home, eating the greasy food on a picnic table and watching cars go by, making up stories about the people inside of them.

When Scott drops Lydia off at her house later it's still light out. They make plans to back to the lake later that week, and Scott gives her a smile that causes Lydia's stomach to flip. When she slips back into her empty house, she realizes that Allison hasn't shown up all day. And for the first time, Lydia hasn't been worrying about it, maybe even forgot.

…

…

She wakes up to Allison floating a few inches above her. “Pretty cool huh?” she asks, floating down further and kissing Lydia.

“Can you fly?” she asks, sitting up.

“Nah, just kind of... lift up a little.”

“Still, definitely the berries,” Lydia says, gently chucking a dime novel at Allison's head. It goes right through her. Lydia swallows, puts on a smile and pretends that everything's normal. “I need coffee,” she declares, and crawls out of bed. Allison trails after her and Lydia wonders how she can miss someone when she's with them.

…

…

Because this is Beacon Hills, her best friend being a ghost doesn't stay the weirdest thing going on for very long. It was only a matter of time really. Derek goes missing. Lydia comes over and helps because Allison would never forgive her if she didn't. Because Allison spends a whole day making disapproving faces at Lydia when she ignores Scott's phone calls. Because she disappears the next morning, bringing a whole new meaning to the term cold shoulder.

Lydia grits her teeth and gets in her car at two o'clock. Drives over to Scott's and gives Allison a spectacular glare when she appears in the passenger seat once Lydia pulls into Scott's driveway.

“You are being a bitch, I hope you know that,” she says as they walk up to Scott's porch.

Allison bends down and pecks her on the lips. Lydia smiles even though she's mad.

It's the first time she's been with all of her friends since telling them that Allison was back. Kira looks up at her nervously and Lydia feels like an asshole. She sits down at the spot beside her, gives her an apologetic smile and then takes a book right out of Stiles' hands. He grins at her sideways, and Kira relaxes. Malia sits on the couch and looks bored, and Allison rests on the armchair beside Scott, reading over his shoulder.

All their leads point to Mexico. Hashing out the plan, Lydia keeps looking towards Allison, waiting for her input. All she does is watch Scott with an odd look on her face. Lydia does _not_ feel jealous. But she does ask Allison if she is coming with them. The idea of going into a hunter family's territory without her makes Lydia's skin turn to gooseflesh.

“Road trip to Mexico? Wouldn't miss it,” Allison tells her. Lydia relaxes, leaning into Allison's side.

Malia watches them with a frown. “Is she here right now?”

Kira and Stiles look to the empty space Lydia is hugging. Kira's face pinches into worry, but she doesn't say anything.

Stiles does. “Allison, got any info on the Calaveras for us?” he yells, far too loudly. Like an idiot raising their voice to try and speak to a deaf person. Allison smiles at him regardless.

“They're not gonna make it easy on you,” she says to Stiles. Lydia relays her message.

“Oh, just _great_ ,” Stiles mumbles. “Fantastic.”

“Is your jeep going to make it to Mexico?” Scott asks him.

Stiles looks affronted. “Don't knock on my jeep man.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “We're all gonna die,” she says towards Allison. She grins morbidly, while Kira laughs. For the first time in a while, things feel almost normal.

…

…

Of course the plan, like nearly all of the ones that they come up with, is a terrible plan. Lydia gets dragged into a room and hooked up to wires and watches, crying, as Scott is electrocuted over and over for her. Allison is in the corner, screaming till she's hoarse, and trying to mess with the wires to free Scott. Lydia's body won't stop shaking. And Allison is so angry, so frustrated at not being able to do anything, she starts blinking in and out of sight.

Which only causes Lydia to panic further. She can't lose them both at the same time. She already only has Allison halfway to being with.

 _Finally,_ they stop. Scott looks more tired than Lydia has ever seen him before. The minute she is released from her binds, she runs to him. Looping her arms around his neck and trying to calm him down. Allison blinks back into existence and mimics her. Holding onto Scott's other side, the two of them squashing him up in the middle. Scott sighs like maybe he knows what is happening, and smiles a little to the space at his right. Allison hugs him tighter.

But of course, that's not the worst of it. Stiles' goddamn jeep breaks down with _things_ surrounding them. Malia takes off and Lydia stands there, shaking and holding up her cell phone flashlight while Stiles tries to fix the jeep. Kira, at the ready with her sword. Allison right beside her, hands empty, face full of fierce determination.

Malia comes back and Stiles spends a good ten minutes yelling at her with panic in his eyes. Lydia glares when she tells him that she wouldn't leave Stiles, but she'd leave any of the rest of them. Lydia just wants Scott to get back here. She's antsy without him now. And she's not exactly sure what that is about, but she's not thrilled by it.

Finally, he and Braeden come back, dragging Derek between them, looking baby faced and younger than all of them put together.

“Shit,” Allison whispers into Lydia's hair.

…

…

Everything starts moving too fast. Lydia holds Little Derek's hand, because he looks small and scared. Allison stays with her while they wait for him to wake up, running her fingers lightly through Lydia's hair.

The minute the crisis seems mostly averted, Lydia books it out of there. Goes home and crawls into her bed and lets Allison wrap herself around her, wishing she could feel Allison for real. She rolls over, so that they are facing each other and kisses Allison hard.

“Scott almost died for me,” Lydia whispers.

“Yeah,” Allison brushes some hair out of Lydia's face. “He's good like that.”

“You almost left.”

“I didn't mean to. I just—I couldn't do anything. I _can't do anything,_ ” she growls in frustration. “I can't help like this. I'm useless.”

“You're not,” Lydia insists.

“I can't even actually touch you Lydia. I can't shoot an arrow. I can't help anyone. I'm dead.”

“Stop,” Lydia covers her ears like a little kid.

“I _am_ ,” Allison says, sounding very tired. “I've been dead for months.”

“No, you're here. That's all that matters.”

Allison doesn't answer. She looks up at the ceiling and lays flat on her back. Lydia clings to her, afraid to fall asleep. Afraid to wake up and see that Allison is gone. Afraid that she keeps going away for longer periods at a time. Afraid that one day, she just isn't going to come back at all.

…

…

She finds herself sleeping at Scott's for three consecutive nights in a week. It's late August, and hotter than hell. Her mother is working later and later, some big case that she is in the final stages of, and Melissa has night shifts all week long. Allison only shows up twice, and Lydia gets lonely.

It starts by going to the lake and swimming for the afternoon. Scott dunking her twice, and finally convincing her to try her hand at jumping off the rock. (Allison shows up and gives her a thousand watt smile and threatens to push her off if she doesn't just _jump_ already. Scott's arms immediately reach out for her and keep her head above the water.)

They drive back to Scott's house and make tacos, messily dripping sauce down their cheeks and getting their fingers all sticky. Lydia laughs when Scott wipes his fingers on her face. Pushing him backwards in his chair and not feeling bad one bit as he falls to the floor, laughing so hard he can't breathe.

Lydia doesn't know why they've never done this before, her and Scott. Being actual friends, hanging out together. Now that she's been around him more one on one, she can't imagine _not_ having Scott in her life anymore. She gets it now, what Allison saw in him two years ago, what she must have seen in the both of them. Lydia aches for her still, she doesn't know how to make it stop, doesn't think it ever will.

She and Scott move into the living room, watching bad movies and eating popcorn with way too much butter. Lydia's feet end up in Scott's lap sometime near the end of the second movie, and he holds onto them, rubbing small circles around the top of her left foot till she's trembling.

“You cold?” he asks, noticing. “I've got hoodies upstairs.”

She's not, but she nods anyway.

Scott lifts her feet up and darts upstairs. Left alone, the skin on Lydia's arms starts to get goosebumps. The hair on the back of her neck feels staticky, like right before she wakes up screaming about seeing dead people in her dreams. Lydia _hates_ her powers. They're useless. She can't ever prevent anything, just finds dead bodies, just knows that her best friend is going to die before it happens, trapped, unable to do anything about it.

Lydia watches a boy running in the rain, feels his deep-seated terror as he pumps his legs as fast as they will go. She knows he's a werewolf before she sees his eyes flash. She doesn't know how. She doesn't know how any of this works.

She's still trembling and screaming when Scott comes back into the room. He scoops her up in his arms and holds her close, murmuring assurances in her ear. Lydia clings to him, explains what she saw. Telling him that they need to go—now _—_ and help this boy.

“Okay,” he tugs the hoodie over her head. “Okay, come on. Call Stiles and Malia. I'll call Kira.”

Lydia only nods, dialing on automatic. She doesn't give Stiles a chance to speak before she says, “Bring your coyote girlfriend and a two metal bats to the football field. _Now._ ”

She's grown fond enough of Stiles to appreciate that he just says, “Be right there,” and hangs up. No questions asked.

Lydia climbs onto the back of Scott's bike and holds onto him tightly. Praying that this time, one of her stupid visions will actually _help._ That she's not just about to lead her friends to another dead kid's body. That some other girl or boy isn't going to spend months aching for their best friend so badly it hurts to breathe, even if they're still there sometimes.

Scott goes well beyond the speed limit. Lydia clings to him tighter, but trusts his reflexes enough not to panic about crashing. They reach the school before anyone else. Scott looks like he might tell her to stay by the bike and she gives him one of her finest bitchy glares. He thinks better of it. They walk slowly together onto the football field. Lydia can hear Stiles' jeep pulling up, but she doesn't turn around. There is a lump out on the grass. Scott stiffens beside her and Lydia _knows_.

She's too late. Again.

She turns around and stalks off the football field. Scott calling out to her. She ignores him. Ignores Kira, and Malia, and Stiles. She grabs one of the bats right out of Stiles' hands and grips it tightly. Vibrating with anger, she starts swinging it. Attacking the Beacon Hills school welcome sign with fervor. Hits it so hard on her sixth whack that she falls backwards.

Malia is the one to catch her. Holding her steady and then letting go as soon as Lydia comes up swinging again. Stiles and Kira try to get her to stop, but Malia asks why. Why not let her? Lydia hits the sign till pieces break off, till her hands hurt, till she sees blood. Until Allison stands in front of the bat and Lydia accidentally swings right through her.

She gasps and drops the bat, apologizing.

“Are you talking to Ghost Allison again?” Malia asks, looking around with narrowed eyes, trying to see her too.

“Lydia...” Stiles trails off.

Scott walks over to them, carrying the boy's body in his arms. Lydia wants to pick the bat back up again, but Allison grabs her hands and holds them in place. “You're bleeding,” she says.

Lydia eyes the constantly bloody wound in Allison's side. “So are you.”

Allison smiles. “But mine's not dripping all over the place.”

“You're much more considerate than me,” Lydia agrees.

Kira looks at her with worry. Lydia stops talking to Allison, doesn't stop leaning into her though.

“Let's get out of here,” Stiles says. No one disagrees with him.

Lydia climbs back onto Scott's bike and tries to remember how great this afternoon had been. Jumping off the rock, eating messy tacos, her feet in Scott's lap, it seems like a lifetime ago already.

“Can I sleep over?” Lydia asks as they come up to her house.

“Yeah, sure.” Scott keeps driving.

They silently agree to go back to the couch. Lydia pulls Scott's hoodie closer around her and cuddles into him under the blankets. The tv is still on, playing the main dvd menu page over and over. Five seconds of music swelling and then dropping off again and again in a loop. Lydia knocks her head into Scott's.

“I hate my powers,” she whispers.

“We'll figure out how to control them,” he promises her. “If I can figure out this werewolf stuff, we can figure out this banshee stuff. You're way smarter than I am.”

Lydia leans up and kisses his cheek lightly, enjoying the way that he blushes underneath her.

…

…

She wakes up wrapped in Scott's warm arms. Coffee is brewing in the kitchen, and Lydia is hesitant to move. The need to pee eventually has her gingerly extracting herself from Scott's hold and slipping into the bathroom. When she shuffles into the kitchen, Melissa is sitting at the table, one eyebrow raises at her before she gives Lydia a smile and says, “Good morning.”

“Hi, sorry. We fell asleep watching a movie,” she says quickly, trying to come up with an excuse.

“That's fine,” Melissa says. “Would you like coffee?”

“Yes please.”

She spends the whole day at Scott's after Melissa heads up to bed to sleep after her overnight shift. They scourge the internet for information on banshees. Lydia has only briefly looked herself, too afraid to delve deeper into it. But now, with Scott sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth in concentration, and Allison sprawling herself out on his couch, occasionally reading over their shoulders, it doesn't feel as scary.

They fall asleep on the couch again. Tangled up together. And Lydia sleeps better than she has in months. She stops making excuses to Melissa in the mornings, just says hello and asks her about her shift, explains about the research they've been trying to do. Melissa listens, offfering up her own ideas about the things they've read, and Lydia finds that she really enjoys talking to Scott's mother.

When she asks Lydia about Allison, it's clear that Scott hasn't told her about the whole ghost thing yet. Lydia skirts around the truth, not wanting to lie outright. “I talk to her all the time,” she says. “But I still miss her like crazy.”

Melissa wraps her up in a hug. Kisses her on the forehead and cups Lydia's cheeks in her hands gently. Just _looks_ at her for a moment. “She was an extraordinary girl,” Melissa finally says.

“Yeah,” Lydia croaks out, seeing Allison appear on the counter top. Tears that can't actually fall welling up in her eyes at Melissa's words.

“You are too Lydia,” she adds. “Allison wouldn't want you to hide that away forever.”

Lydia doesn't ask her what she means by that. Melissa just kisses her temple again as Scott stumbles into the room, muttering good morning and kissing his mother on the cheek as she heads up to bed. He's still half asleep. As he passes by Lydia to reach the coffee pot, he kisses her on the cheek too. Automatic. Like he's been doing it for years. Lydia tries not to blush, she's getting more kisses now than she's had since she was fourteen and learning how to make out properly with Jackson. But now they're nearly all innocent. 'Hellos', and 'goodbyes', and 'I'm still heres'. Lydia looks up and catches Allison's eye. She gives her a wicked grin. Well, maybe they're not _all_ as innocent as that.

…

…

Lydia isn't sure how it happens, but she and Scott are almost constantly touching each other nowadays. Their hands seek out each others. They cuddle up to watch movies or do research on her powers. Lydia falls asleep at his house more often than not as the summer air cools to prepare for fall. Cheek kisses happen spontaneously and often. And more than once, there is the occasional peck on the lips. Lydia gets a little panicky about it for a while. She avoids Scott for two days straight and nearly cries in relief when Allison finally shows up in the afternoon of the second day. They decide that Lydia is being an idiot, and she goes back over to Scott's.

Determined, she walks right up to him while she still has all her courage and yanks his head down to hers, pressing their lips together. He yelps a little in surprise, but immediately responds after that.

He kisses her hard, a little sloppily and wet, their noses bumping together in the rush to be closer. And it's so much more real than all of Allison's kisses combined. Lydia mews into it and tugs at his hair, pulling him down closer to her. She grinds her hips into his and he groans. She feels like she is on fire. Like she might explode from how perfect everything is right now, like they should have always been doing this.

“We're... Lydia...” he mumbles between kisses. “We're on my porch.”

“Bedroom,” Lydia says instantly.

Scott's eyes go wide. “You sure? Do you want to talk about—”

“I don't want to talk right now,” Lydia says. Absolute. Scott nods, scooping her up and bolting upstairs to his room, looking at her with the same intense hunger that she feels for him.

He undresses her slowly, and she shivers. She stands there and lets him, feeling exposed and surprisingly unembarrassed. His eyes trail slowly down her body as he moves closer to her, pulling his shirt over his head then kissing his way down her neck. They slowly fall back onto his bed, Scott holding himself above her, twirling his tongue around her right nipple. Lydia moans, clawing out at the sheets below her and bucking her hips up towards him. He laughs into her breast and she smacks his arm.

“You better have a condom,” she commands.

Scott shakes his head. “We won't need it today.”

Lydia might murder him with her bare hands.

He grins at her. “This time's about you,” he tells her, before returning back to her breasts. And fuck if that's not the hottest thing Lydia has ever heard.

As he kissing his way down Lydia's stomach, Allison shows up. Gasping, Lydia starts to sit up.

“Don't,” Allison tells her, voice strained in arousal. She steps forward, coming up to the bed. Scott, oblivious to her presence, keeps kissing Lydia's stomach. Allison grabs her hand. “It's okay,” she says.

“Allison,” Lydia gasps, and Scott freezes in place.

He looks up at her and frowns. “Is she here right now?”

Lydia nods, pointing over to where she is. Scott's eyes narrow at the space, trying yet again to see her. Lydia groans when Allison bends forward and begins kissing her neck. It's not enough. She can't feel it. Scott's eyes widen as he watches Lydia try and arch into her touch. _Now_ Lydia feels embarrassed.

“Can you feel—” he starts.

“No. Not really.” Lydia wants to pull her clothes back on and run. To be truly alone for the first time in months. But Scott, perfect fucking Scott McCall grins up at her.

“Allison,” he says to the empty space beside his bed. “Tell me what you want me to do to her.”

Lydia's breath hitches, and Allison looks far too excited. She climbs onto the bed, laying down beside Scott. She kisses him and bites at his ear, hard. Lydia watches him jump slightly and grin. “Oh my god,” she moans, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you both.”

Matching laughter rings out in her ears.

She comes on Scott's fingers; his lips quirked up into a grin against her clit. Allison whispers into Lydia's ear as Scott's tongue does sinfully perfect things to her body. She shakes as she comes, crying out both of their names and clawing at Scott's hair. For a moment, she thinks that it has to be wrong that she finds it so hot that she's completely naked and they're not. That Allison is spectral and bloody, Scott shirtless, but otherwise clothed. That they're both just watching her come undone, staring up at her like she's a revelation.

When she finishes, comes back into herself and stops shaking, Scott crawls back up to her. He slips out of his jeans and pulls the covers over them both. Allison tucks herself into Lydia's other side, and then she's cuddled in between the both of them happily.

“What about you guys?” she asks.

“That _was_ for me,” Scott answers.

“Yeah,” Allison says, her voice still heavy with arousal. “Same.”

Lydia snuggles closer to them both, Scott warm and solid to her right, Allison too light and cool on her left. She lets out a content sigh, trying not to think too hard about having sex with her dead best friend, and her werewolf new best friend at the same time. About what that means. She falls asleep happier and more relaxed than she's been in months.

…

…

Scott forces her to hang out with Malia and Kira. The fact that he can use his tongue as leverage over her now makes Lydia want to kill him. But he nips at her neck and asks her politely, not pushing. Promising all sorts of things they can do together when she gets back.

And then, of course, Allison lays on the guilt trip on top of it. “You made friends with me when I first moved here. They need a Lydia in their lives too.”

“I _am_ their friend,” she protests. Answering them both.

“Not really,” Allison answers. “Not like you were with me. Or Scott. You don't actually talk to them about anything that's not supernatural or school related.”

“Well, I don't want to make out with either of them. So, our relationships are a little different.”

Scott's eyebrows knit together, missing half the conversation. He shrugs and turns his attention back to Lydia's neck, trusting Allison to finish convincing Lydia.

“It's not replacing me if you actually let them be your friends,” Allison says quietly.

Lydia pushes Scott off of her and glares at Allison. “I—”

“It's not.”

Lydia swallows, her throat tight from not allowing herself to cry. “Okay.”

…

…

They have a sleepover and Kira's house. Lydia asks Allison to come so she isn't alone, but she never shows up. Lydia grits her teeth, splashes cold water on her face to keep herself from crying, and tries not to spend the whole night ignoring the other girls. Kira has elected to show Malia every stereotypical sleepover activity in the universe despite her lack of interest. So, they paint their nails, watch cheesy movies, and eat way too much popcorn. When they have a pillow fight, Malia nearly knocks Lydia and Kira unconscious on accident.

So they switch gears to talk about boys and style their hair. Stereotypical indeed.

Malia tells them, in far too much detail, how she and Stiles have sex. From the sounds of it, oral is the favorite for them both. Kira's face turns bright pink and Lydia just rolls her eyes. Malia's bluntness is becoming more amusing than annoying. It might mean she is beginning to grow fond of the girl.

“So, do you and Scott have good sex?” Malia asks.

“Fantastic,” Lydia says, then, remembers Kira liked him and wants to smack herself. She and Scott have only been... whatever it is that they are—friends with _great_ benefits—for less than two weeks. They haven't really talked about it. Scott has tried, but Lydia has distracted him every time. Usually with her mouth. But, it figures that Scott would tell Stiles. Lydia isn't even bothered or surprised by that in the slightest. She'd expected it to be honest. Stiles telling Malia isn't a great leap either. Kira is the only odd one out. “Um, we're just...”

“I think it's great,” Kira says, smiling at her. “You look a lot happier. So does he. You're a good couple.”

“Oh... we're not a couple. We're just...” Lydia has no idea. “You can...” she starts, then becomes intensely jealous at the thought of Kira and Scott dating. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “I like him.”

“Obviously,” Kira says.

“Well _yeah!_ ” Lydia yells. “As a _friend!_ But I didn't know that I— _shit._ ” She turns to Kira and grabs her by the shoulders. “I'm sorry,” she says sincerely.

“For what?”

“I know you liked him. I didn't mean to—”

Kira cuts her off. “Yeah, I did. But, we're friends now and I'm happy with that. I'm okay. You can talk about him.”

Lydia shakes her head. The only person she wants to talk about Scott with is Allison. And she refuses to show up right now. The bitch.

“Well we're going to have to find you a guy,” Lydia says, determinedly. “Or girl. What's your type? I know everyone in school. I'll find you someone perfect.”

Kira looks terrified, Malia starts complaining that she's still hungry, and Lydia is actually enjoying herself.

…

…

Lydia runs as fast as she can. Her legs pumping wildly and breath coming out in short, painful puffs. She should have started exercising the minute that she found out about werewolves, and kanimas, and other insane things that shouldn't exist. Now, she's going to be ripped to shreds because she can't run fast enough. Because she has been isolating herself from her friends, ignoring pack meetings whenever possible. Because she is alone and an idiot.

Heavy footsteps gain on her, clapping with sharp claws and edging up far too close on her heels. Lydia whines and tries to force her legs to go faster.

She hates herself for brushing off Scott's offer of a ride home. She was too nervous that he would finally try to ask all his questions about their relationship. She doesn't have any answers for him. So, despite how much she hates it, she's been avoiding him. And Allison barely shows up for more than a few minutes at a time anymore.

Lydia is all alone, and now she's going to die.

Suddenly, _mercifully,_ Allison appears at her side, sprinting along with Lydia. “Run!” she screams. “Faster Lydia!”

Invigorated, Lydia sprints with a new burst of energy. She has been terrified for her life before, more than once, but, for the last few months, since Allison died, Lydia has felt almost half-dead herself. She doesn't want to die out here in the woods, her body ripped apart by some beast wearing other people's bones. A cover story in the newspaper about masked men with knives, or another mountain lion attack. She doesn't want to die at seventeen, petrified, and with her life just still beginning. She doesn't want to die at all.

“Where do I go?” she asks Allison.

“Turn left!” she yells, trying to pull Lydia along. Her hands pass right through Lydia's. “Faster! Keep going that way!”

“Don't leave me!” Lydia screams.

“I'm getting Scott. I can't fight it off like this,” Allison sounds so pained to admit her helplessness.

Lydia screams in frustration. “I don't want to die alone Allison. Scott can't hear you. Please stay with me,” she begs.

“You're not going to die!” Allison screams fiercely. “Turn left then hide in the cave up ahead.”

She disappears.

Lydia runs.

She stumbles into the cave, hiding down behind a large rock a few feet into the entrance, trying to control her breathing. It feels like hours as the minutes stretch on. Lydia hears the berserker approaching the cave and clamps a hand over her mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible. She's crying too hard to be quiet enough. She's going to die because she's acting like a hysterical white girl in a horror film. She's the idiot slut who dies at the beginning of the movie, goes off alone, sleeps with too many boys, stringing them along, has thoughts about girls that she shouldn't. By society's rules, she has to pay for it. Lydia curls herself into a ball and grits her teeth. If she's going to die, she's not going to die hysterical and crying, she's going to look that thing in the eyes and tell it to fuck off. She just needs a minute to make herself brave enough.

The berserker approaches the cave, creaking terribly with other people's bones rubbing together. Lydia isn't going to be brave enough. She chokes out a sob, attracting the berserker's attention. It freezes, its head tilting unnaturally in the silhouette of the cave.

Allison blinks back to her side and wraps herself around Lydia protectively. Putting herself between the berserker and Lydia. “Scott and the others are coming,” she whispers. Lydia doesn't know why she does that, modulating her voice for the situation. No one else but Lydia can ever hear her, she doesn't need to whisper. But the berserker tilts its head to the opposite side, so, maybe it can. Maybe Scott did. Maybe he really is coming. Lydia clutches Allison close.

“I'm scared,” she whispers as low as she can. Allison can hear her. Allison can always hear her.

“Don't be,” Allison tucks a stray hair behind Lydia's ear. “I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here.”

“I'm gonna die though,” Lydia says, crying. There's snot falling down onto her lips. It's terribly revolting, but Lydia can't bring herself to really care. Allison leans forward and kisses her anyway.

“No, you're not. You're going to live. We can't both die. The world is unfair, but it can't be that unfair. You're going to grow up and win a Fields medal, and dedicate it to your best friend. You're going to stop being scared of your feelings and admit that you like Scott. You're going to let yourself be happy without me.”

“No,” Lydia pulls Allison so close, part of her hip passes through Lydia.

Allison gives her a soft smile. “Yeah. You're going to take over the world some day Lydia Martin. It's gonna be great,” her voice drops. “You'll have to grow up for the both of us.” Allison is crying now too, but her tears won't fall. Her face isn't all snotty. It's a little unfair.

The berserker enters the cave. Lydia wipes her eyes. Allison stays between it and her. “Get a big enough rock that you can hold,” she tells Lydia. “You're gonna have to fight. You can do this.”

“Don't leave,” she pleads.

Allison gives her a smile. “I won't.”

Lydia grabs a rock and breathes. Waiting. She is only going to get one chance to surprise this thing and run out of the cave. Allison holds her arm up, motioning for her to wait. “Not yet.” Lydia crouches up onto her feet awkwardly, preparing to run. “NOW!” Allison screams.

Lydia puts all her weight into it, and slams the rock into the thing's head. Then she runs as fast as she can, Allison right beside her.

She barrels into Scott, gaining enough momentum that she knocks them both over. Malia jumps in front of them, teeth and claws sharp, howling at the thing Lydia managed to momentarily stun. Scott recovers quickly, pulling them both upright and asking if she is okay. Lydia just nods. Scott and Malia fight the thing off, Kira jumping in and out with her sword.

Stiles runs up to her. “Baseball bat?” he asks, holding an extra one out. “You did some good damage with it once already.”

Lydia grabs it and the two of them run at the thing swinging. Allison cheers them on.

…

…

She doesn't know how they manage it really, it's more Scott than anyone else. It's Scott, taking the whole damn world on his shoulders. Becoming an alpha. Saving them all.

Lydia has never felt so tired or frail in her entire life. She crawls into her bed after the fight, exhausted. She wakes up sometimes in the middle of the night to find Allison sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Hey,” she murmurs, “where've you been?”

Allison shrugs and doesn't offer up anything else. Something like dread settles itself in Lydia's stomach; something leaden and awful. “Don't go,” she pleads.

Allison gives her a sad smile. “I can't stay.”

“Yes you can,” Lydia sits up, reaching for Allison's hand. She comes up with nothing but air.

“You don't need me anymore.”

“Yes I do,” Lydia insists.

Allison shakes her head. “You don't,” she leans forward and kisses Lydia's lips. She can't feel it at all. Lydia starts to cry. “I'm so glad you made me be your friend.”

“Please don't leave me.”

Allison holds their foreheads together. “You're my best friend Lydia. I love you. I wouldn't leave if I didn't know you were gonna be okay.”

“But—”

“Tell Scott for me too will you?” she asks. “Take care of each other.”

“I love you too,” Lydia says to her empty bedroom. She doesn't know when she falls asleep, only that when she wakes up, she has a splitting headache from crying, and the sun is only just rising. A storm is brewing on the horizon.

Lydia crawls out of bed and pulls on Scott's hoodie. She never gave it back to him. She slips out of her house and drives over to Scott's as the rain begins to fall, climbing up the side of the porch the way Stiles taught her to. She falls gracelessly through Scott's bedroom window and lands with a thump. Scott jolts upright in his bed, on high alert.

“It's me,” she says quickly.

Scott relaxes. “Lydia? What time is it?”

“Way too early.”

He grins through a yawn. “My mom likes you a lot, but I don't think she's gonna be too happy with you sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.”

“It's morning.”

“Whatever,” he flops back down into his bed, pulling the covers over to make room for her. They still haven't talked about their relationship, but Lydia doesn't hesitate to slide under the covers, shivering from the rain. “Your legs are freezing,” he hisses.

“Sorry.”

“S'okay,” Scott presses his hot ones against hers. “Give it a minute.”

They're quiet for a few moments, thunder rolls on lightly in the distance, and Lydia thinks that Scott might have fallen back asleep. “She's gone,” Lydia whispers.

Scott's eyes open, facing her. “Allison?” he asks.

Lydia nods, choking back a sob as Scott's arms wrap around her tight. “She says that she loves you,” she manages to get out. Scott only holds her tighter.

“Yeah, I know. I loved her too.”

“I wanted her to stay,” she admits. Scott nods and tucks Lydia's head underneath his chin and rubs her back, doesn't say anything. It's exactly what she needs. They lie there together and cry softly, the same way they did right after Allison died. A bolt of lightening strikes, brightening the room. “She said we have to take care of each other for her,” Lydia tells him after she's calmed down.

“Okay.”

Lydia lifts her head up and looks at Scott's face. He's so ready to save everyone, he never thinks about himself. Lydia kisses him. Soft and gentle, drawing it out. Scott smiles into her mouth and Lydia suddenly feels giddy. She can smell the coffee Melissa is brewing down in the kitchen. Scott's hands on her feel warm and steady. She rolls over, slightly on top of him and deepens the kiss, wanting to make the most out of their time before Melissa catches them and makes them come downstairs, fully clothed to eat pancakes.

Lightening strikes again, and Lydia counts in between kisses. _One Mississippi... two Mississippi..._

“You alright?” Scott asks. Her face is still tear-stained.

Lydia lets out a content sigh and kisses him again, feeling his solid warmth beneath her. “I'm going to be,” she smiles. 

 


End file.
